


All Ends with Time

by Kaoru_chibimaster



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, FFXV kinkmeme, M/M, a lot of angst though, at different times of course, but then a lot of smut too..., cor paired with all three of his kings, regis is a ho i'm not sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-17
Updated: 2017-12-17
Packaged: 2019-02-16 05:55:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13047870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaoru_chibimaster/pseuds/Kaoru_chibimaster
Summary: For Cor, he'd lived through three kings and lost three kings. For Cor, every bit of time with his kings was precious, no matter how temporary.For Cor, he lived for his kings.





	All Ends with Time

**Author's Note:**

> A fill for this prompt: [Cor/Mors, Cor/Regis, Cor/Noctis](https://ffxv-kinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/4398.html?thread=8040750#cmt8040750)

Callused fingers reached out to run through snowy white hair. Thin, strong fingers. The same that wielded swords in defense of kings. The same that scribbled through schoolwork on weekdays and crownsguard work on weekends. The same that grappled playfully with friends and determinedly with friendly rivals. The same that fought with deadly purpose and great strength against opponents. These fingers had been used most of their life with stubborn force. Now, however, they carded through wintery locks with the softness of a lover. They caressed wrinkled skin, sliding over frail cheekbones and gripping a once strong jawline. 

Cor leaned over to press a kiss to his king's lips. Wildly inappropriate for his station, and particularly questionable for his age: King Mors was old enough to be his father, and Cor had only just turned eighteen. But neither man found that they cared. The king was dying, slowly but surely. He'd be gone by the end of the year and Prince Regis would ascend the throne only to suffer the same fate by the time he reaches his fifties. And he would see his son or daughter do the same. And so on. And so forth. King Mors had wanted physical comfort, the kind he trusted from no one else. There was no one else left. Lord Amicitia died in an assassination attempt on the king, the Queen was murdered in her sleep on a diplomatic trip, the eldest Amicitia son had died of a nasty illness that he'd doomed himself with by ignoring it, and Mors refused to take the younger son from Regis. Cor was close enough to Mors -to the royal family as a whole- and while he may not have been a noble, not that his family hadn't made a name for itself within the crownsguard, he was still the king's bodyguard. He had sworn his life to Mors, and to Regis, and he found his body a small price to pay in the grand scheme of things. 

He didn't love Mors. Not in such an intimate way, at least. He considered the man family. But King Mors was reaching the end of his days and he sought comfort in the simplest of ways. Cor's devotion to his job manifested in a number of ways, it bled into his personal life to the point where there was little disconnect. There was no nine-to-five, no end-of-shift, no "I'll see you tomorrow". His personal life was his job. He didn't bed girls and boys his age at Insomnian parties and clubs, or fool around with fellow crownsguard recruits. He lost his virginity to his king. And he would continue to lay with his king until he could no longer do so. 

Mors was quiet in his premature old age. Contemplating. He watched Cor with sad gray eyes, eyes that lost their sharpness and good humor throughout the past few years. He made not a sound, even as Cor rolled his hips against his king's, and the only indication of his pleasure was the tightening of quivering, spidery fingers digging into Cor's sides. Not a sound was made, not a gasp, not a sigh. Mors' expression was carefully controlled calm. He too understood the taboo of their situation, of course, and chose not to express more than was necessary. They would kiss, they would touch. But at a distance. There would be no wild fucking, no flailing limbs or ankles lifted above heads. No loud moaning or filthy talking. No bodily fluid spilled inside the other. Despite how unprofessional it was for Cor to lay with his king, it was probably the most professional manner of sex there could have been. As far as Cor knew, at least. Which, admittedly, wasn't much. What he  _knew_  was that he was meant to comfort his king, and so he would do so. He was proud of it. When Mors was gone, Cor would look back at these encounters fondly, not because of the sex itself, but because it meant he was able to offer his king what he needed so thoroughly until the very end. 

-o-

Regis was very much the opposite of Mors. Regis searched for fun in his life, skirting rules and making exceptions. He hid very well behind a professional mask, his charming smile and air of authority calling forth every bit of favorable attention, but Regis was the type of man to seek his pleasure in decidedly unfavorable ways. 

Personally, Cor didn't think it was befitting of a king to constantly sleep with his friends. 

Clarus rolled his eyes and allowed the contact in faux resignation, despite the eagerness in his eyes when he touched his charge. Their encounters would be loud and rough, bed frames slamming against walls, voices passionate, clothes strewn about sometimes even outside of their rooms, suggesting that they couldn't even wait before they started taking them off. Sometimes they didn't make it to a room. Cor had run into more than a few questionable...events in the Regalia. 

Aulea was just as excitable as Regis. Cor had walked in on them one time, watching with wide eyes as the noble-woman rode the new king. He'd stood in the doorway frozen, his eyes trailing over flawless skin, Aulea's arms planted on the headrest above Regis head as she bounced on his cock, her hips rolling and her breasts swaying. Regis thrust into her just as enthusiastically as he lay on his back, fingers gripped on sweaty thighs, occasionally reaching up to brush her long, straight hair out of her face. Neither of them had noticed Cor there, staring silently at the unintentional show they had put on for him. 

Or so Cor had thought. Yet when Regis had cornered him, invited him into his bedroom, the first thing he'd asked was if Cor "liked what he saw". Cheeky bastard. Of course Cor had liked what he saw, judging by the erection he'd walked out of that room with once he'd come to his senses. He'd fantasized about having Regis on his back like that, beneath Cor in the most intimate of ways. And to Cor's surprise, Regis had wanted that too. 

Regis liked to be dominated. Not so much so in that it was fetishized, but enough in that he preferred handing the reins to his partner. He liked being out of control during sex. He was still an excitable lover, active in the act and reciprocating, but he enjoyed being on the receiving end when he could. He'd even admitted to letting Aulea penetrate him with toys. And so when Cor joined Regis in his bed, he found the new king's legs over his shoulders as he fucked into his hole as hard and fast as his hips would allow. Regis rolled his own hips against Cor's, nearly shouting in pleasure. His face was screwed up, red and sweaty as black strands of hair stuck to his forehead. Cor had never seen anything more attractive. 

Where sex with Mors had been slow, gentle and professional, sex with Regis was wild and untamed. Regis demanded satisfaction from his lovers, just as much as he gave. And he was inexplicably insatiable on top of that. When Clarus and Aulea learned that he'd been sleeping with Regis, they only gave Cor a pitying look, patting his shoulders and telling him to prepare himself for an unforeseeable future of exhausted nights and chaffed privates. 

It stopped being amusing when he realized just how serious they were. 

-o-

Noctis was an odd middle ground between his father and his grandfather. Like Regis, he liked having control handed over. Perhaps even more so. Where Regis wanted the shots called as he was held down and fucked well into, Noctis wanted to lay there and be held. If anything, it almost resembled Mors and his want for comfort. But Noctis preferred to be flat across a mattress, his face smothered in pillows and his fingers gripped in sheets as he was entered from behind. Like Regis, he was expressive, his mouth open in bliss, his eyebrows scrunched up in pleasure, his muscles quivering as shivers ran the length of his spine. Like Mors, he was quiet. Not so perfected in his silence as his elder was, he was young and relatively inexperienced and so little moans punctuated every thrust of Cor's hips, but they were so low that no one outside of the camper they'd tumbled into could hear them. That was another similarity to Regis: wanting what he wanted when he wanted it. Noctis hadn't bothered to wait until his group's bearings were found and they'd settled into a comfortable routine. He'd sent his friends off in search for materials, requesting alone time to process the fall of Insomnia, and had immediately pulled Cor into the outpost camper in seek of physical soothing. Cor, against his better judgement, agreed. This had been his life, comforting his kings physically, and if he were truly against it, he would have said no. No one ever forced him into these encounters after all.

Noctis was grieving. He was hurting and he was vulnerable, and Cor was terrified that someone would take advantage of that. He would rather offer this to the young king than to allow him to seek comfort in strangers or strain his relationships with his friends attempting to find it in them. He would rather be the guiding hand, the one that can handle Noctis' wants and needs in just the way he needed them. He'd allowed Noctis to undress them both and then he'd pushed the young man down, turned him over and lavished him in attention. He'd licked his way over creamy skin, pressing slick fingers into a fluttering opening before replacing them with his own sex, settling into the pliant body beneath him. He'd started slow, speeding up only when Noctis had started begging him for more. That wasn't right, in Cor's mind. No king should beg for anything. If Cor even had to be  _asked_  then he was doing his job  _wrong_. He pounded into Noctis with fervor, arms on each side of the young king's head for purchase, not even bothering to hold his hips up as he knew the extra stimulation of the sheets against Noctis' arousal would send him into climax that much faster. 

It did. 

For one moment, Noctis cried out loudly (rare for him, even in orgasm), his knuckles white as his fingers clenched tightly, his insides squeezing around Cor as his entire body shook. Cor did not stop. He pressed against Noctis' prostate, watching as the wet spot underneath his lithe body spread, listening to overstimulated gasps and babblings of nonsense. When Noctis' body started to slump in exhaustion, Cor allowed himself his own release. Noctis, unlike both Regis and Mors, leeched off of physical closeness in every way. He did not allow Cor to wear condoms, instead pressing his backside against Cor to accept every ounce of his seed. He did not allow Cor to pull away when they finished, instead dragging him down to cuddle. 

Cor found it easy to hold Noctis. He'd done so the young king's entire life-why not continue to do so in bed? He pulled Noctis into his arms, cradled his head as he tiredly let tears falls from his eyes, the ones he'd tried so hard to hold back in the tomb of the wise as he'd raged at the choices his father made. Cor rubbed his back and rested his chin at the top of Noctis' head and allowed him this moment to rest before they had to redress before the others returned. It was easy to comfort Noctis, who had always looked to Cor to do so, physically once he'd found himself in the midst of puberty and Cor only gave in when Noctis came of age, and Cor found pleasure in it as well. He'd lost two kings throughout his lifetime, and would likely lose a third. He was glad to hold at least one of them close before their time came. He was glad to be the shoulder to lean on, the hand to hold, and the body to caress. 

He placed a kiss on the crown of Noctis' head and prayed he'd have as much time as possible to provide this comfort to Noctis. Inevitable as it was, Cor didn't want to see this king die. Noctis didn't deserve that. None of them did.


End file.
